


Golden Spirits

by Shining_star_rae



Series: The Magic Verse [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, GHOST BOYS, Hashirama is trying his best, Magic verse, Minato will work his way into any situation that involves Kushina, Uzumaki Mito is a badass
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-10
Updated: 2019-08-10
Packaged: 2020-08-14 14:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20193541
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shining_star_rae/pseuds/Shining_star_rae
Summary: Part one of the Magic!AUNothing can stop an Uzumaki from protecting their own. When Mito learns her niece is alive, she gathers the aid of two Senju boys in order to save her last living family member... None of them question how the Namikaze got involved.





	Golden Spirits

It was becoming clear to Mito that she may die soon. Her magic-once so beautiful and dangerous and _alive-_no longer hummed within her veins as it once had before the massacre of her city. And if there was one thing that had ever really made Mito feel like herself, it was her magic. (Half of her hoped that it wasn’t just _gone_, but that it had been taken from her. That it was waiting and hiding until she could find it. The chances of that actually being the case though…)

From Mito’s experience, magic was the most fragile thing in existence. Oh sure, it was what made people strong and powerful, the thing that kept you alive, but that all came down to how it was used. Magic itself was like darkness. It was everywhere with seemingly no end. But once even the barest amount of light was introduced to it, the darkness was suppressed, it disappeared. That’s what magic ultimately did when traumatic events occurred. It suppressed itself, disappeared. And when magic left a body, that body had a limited time before it died.

Mito was still running when she noticed that her magic was no longer there. Through hazy, jumbled up thoughts, Mito guess it made sense. After all, it wasn’t every day that you woke up to the sound of people screaming in the streets or to the sound of gurgling as one of the guards outside your door had their throat cut. (_There had been _so_ much blood. I knew him, I knew him, he watched me grow up and-there was so much blood. Did throats really bleed out so much? )_ Then again it should’ve taken longer for her magic to stop its thrumming. Magic was supposed to be its strongest when you were in need of survival. Mito was still very much in need of survival. It was after that she was supposed to worry about.

The heavy footsteps of her feet slowed briefly. What was even the point of running then? What was the point of running if she was just going to die anyway? Her mother and father were almost certainly dead-they had stayed to fight the intruders alongside their people (_and there were so many. How were there so many men and women willing to kill her people? Why?)_. Their lasts words to Mito were about how it was her duty to them, to Uzushiogakure, to the Uzumaki family that she was to survive. It was up to Mito to gather any survivors and lead them. She was the strongest magic user of the Uzumaki’s in a very long time-it was her duty to survive. It didn’t matter how.

_Family first. Duty second. Honor last. _That was the Uzumaki motto.

But what did it even matter anymore? She had heard the screams and seen the flames. She’d seen the bodies and the ocean as it mixed with blood. She had even felt the life leave the body of the man who had killed her guard-_it was such a surprised look on his face. He hadn’t even heard the chains... Not a drop of blood from him. Just a thud and silent scream. _

Everything was _gone-gone-gone_. Her mother and father, friends, her home, anyone she had ever loved was gone to the intruders and fire and ocean and and-

_How much blood does it take to drown a city?_

Mito thinks she might’ve just found out.

_Need to live, need to live-I promised-I promised._

But she had promised that to dead people. She had left them there to die. Mito had _abandoned _them.

And that was when Mito stopped running altogether, collapsing on the ground with heaving breaths. It was true and not true she knew. Her father had told her survive no matter what. To not blame herself for anything that happened. If she so much as survived, he had said, that would be enough. Through her, the people had a chance to be reborn new again-their rich history wouldn’t be lost and their beliefs not forgotten. That was what Mito tried to focus on-not on the flashes in her mind of the bloodied ground, or the screaming and cries of fear and pain, or the feeling of guilt and hurt for surviving while others would not. If she survived that is. The sun might have risen, but there was still too little distance between her and the city if she were to live. Who knew what tools and vehicles the intruders had that would sooner or later catch up to her?

It had felt she had only been laying on the ground, trying to calm her heaving for a few seconds when she heard the voices. There was no way to tell what direction the voices were coming from exactly-they sounded so far away and yet so close on all sides. _Why did this have to happen now? What does the world have planned?_

The sun had chosen that moment to peak out from its hiding place among the clouds, bathing everything around her in golden, fiery light. Mito’s eyes were still too heavily filled with tears to notice that the trees and plants, ground and even the air were softer than they should’ve been. Much more alive than they should’ve been.

What she did noticed though, were the two boys that kneeled before her with concern in their golden eyes. _Spirit-born,_ had been her first thought, because that was what baba Kaliko had taught her. But then she thought _spirit-children were wiped out over a hundred years ago_. And sadder still, _just like my family has been wiped out. Like how I’m being hunted._

Mito very well knew that the spirit-children were legends all around the world. The deserts of Suna would freeze-over midday before you went one night without hearing whispers of them, late night drinks held tight against chests. Half of the people whispered spirit-children were the offsprings of nature spirits and humans- they would grow up in the care of their mortal parent and at first glance seemed completely human. Passing by, there was nothing to say they weren’t anything _but_ human. There was, however, always something a little _off_ about them once you were around long enough. Some said it was how they swayed like a leaf that was dancing in the wind, or only had full strength when the sun shone; some spirit-children _always _knew where the closest body of water was, some moved like animals. People were scared of what they might be capable of, what might happen if the spirit-children discovered what they could _do_.

Others said the spirit-born were actual spirits that had asked for a new life- to discover what it meant to be human. The gods would change their form and place them into the belly of a woman-young, old, fertile, barren-it hardly mattered, as long as the woman had a strong spirit. (_Some very foolish women-_were the beginning words of several famous legends-_would make deals with the spirits in order to have a child-it wasn’t very often when one of them survived the birth_). When the human form died, they were supposed to return to their natural form as protectors or gate-keepers.

Some of spirits didn’t _want _to return.

Everyone agreed, though, that the spirit-children were dangerous and needed to be wiped out. It was a _them _or _us _battle. The land locked continents believed all the spirit-children to be extinct, never to return after the ten month war.

Mito always thought the people who said this were idiots. If the spirits wanted to return, by all the stars in the sky, they _would._ But then again, she came from an island nation and island nations knew all about the spirits.

_The first thing you must do when you come across a spirit-child, _her baba Kaliko often said, _is treat them with respect. _

_How do you know when you’ve come across one?_

_Look at their eyes, little one. They all have golden eyes._

Mito had been too weak and fatigued to lift her body from the ground and apologize for her ancestors actions against them-or inaction that is- but she was an Uzumaki, she had to try regardless. It was her duty. Straining to sit up, Mito met their golden eyes with her own black ones.

“Help me, please.”

She would apologize later.

The first time she woke up after realizing she might die, Mito was swaying. One arm rested on her stomach while the other hung limply. Opening her eyes slowly, she hazily took in her surroundings. It was somewhere warm, with the sun beating down and a slight breeze. For a slight second, she thought perhaps it had all been a nightmare and she was laying in the hammock down at Katsumi-san’s like she did every Saturday. But there was no smell of ocean wind, no sound of the waves crashing against the cliff, no seagulls or noddy birds flying or calling out. No hum of magic inside her.

There was only the rhythmical swaying of being in someone’s arms as they walked, the slight huff of breath, and long hair tickling her neck.

Panic swelled in her chest, had she been found by the intruders? Had the spirit-children left her to die after she had collapsed once more? Not that she could entirely fault them. If Mito had to choose between the life of her brother and a stranger, she would always choose her brother.

_Her brother! _Was he alive? Did the assassins hunt down all the Uzumaki living in different countries as well? What about his wife and child? Was there any possibility of their escape, was there anywhere they could go? And what about this person carrying her. Was he with the assassins? Was she going to be tortured, or were they going to force her to work for them? What if-

In her half formed panicked thoughts, Mito vaguely realized that the person carrying her had stopped moving.

“Hey,” a surprisingly soft voice said, “I’m not here to hurt you.”

“And who are you exactly?”

Mito needed water. Badly. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and her voice was raspier than anyone’s she had ever heard before. Not only that, but her head was pounding. How long had she been unconscious for?

Very slowly, the man began lowering her against a tree. There were very few in this area she noted. And all the branches were up high, to the point you would need magic to reach them. Once upon a yesterday, she would have been able to. _This makes a good place for capturing. Nowhere to hide or escape unless you managed to out run your captors._

After the man set her down, he took several slow steps back before sitting down. Mito didn’t know what was more surprising, that he wasn’t taking the opportunity to kill or drug her (after all, any assassin would kill her on the spot, and any captors would have drugged her ass up after so much as her fluttering her eyes) or that he looked to be around her age.

“My name is Hashirama,” he introduced.

Mito quirked an eyebrow, despite shivering from the lack of warmth-turns out she was not, in fact, somewhere warm (_but where was she for it to be so cold_)- and stated, “No last name then?”

Hashirama gave a small smile, “I’ll give my last name when you tell me yours.”

Mito eyed him for any ill intentions, flexing her sluggish limbs as she attempted to change positions. His body told her relaxed, but he kept his unwavering eyes solely on her face-_probably already got an eye full earlier, _she inwardly snorted. He wasn’t wearing any uniform and there were no bags for weapons to be lying around in, not that it really mattered. If he was in any way competent with his magic, he’d be able to kill her. And it was very obvious he worked on his physique, what with all the toned arm muscles. And broad shoulders. Those were some really nice broad shoulders. _No, Mito, not the time. _

Mito came to a conclusion. Several conclusions. Firstly, Hashirama looked faintly familiar. Secondly, Hashirama could very easily capture and force Mito to do anything he wanted her to do, what with the state she was in. (Mito hated coming to conclusions like that. It was just wrong to assume a person might force themselves on you based on your limited knowledge of them. But… sometimes it was necessary to recognize the many possibilities given a situation. You could never be too careful after all, and Mito didn’t let the possibility go unnoted. It was always good to be prepared.)

However, despite his obvious power over her shaking form, Hashirama kept his hands right where she could see them. That helped ease some of her thoughts.

“Where were you taking me?”

The smile tilted downward at the edges. “My home. My brother and I found you on the edge of the land my family owns. I, well, we thought you might be dead at first-“he paused for a moment, probably hoping she might willingly elaborate on her lack of magic. When she continued to stare blankly at him, Hashirama averted his eyes and continued-“When my brother realized you were still alive, he rushed ahead to the house so he could prepare medicine and arrange a guest room for you to heal in. I was, er, I was left to carry you.”

How cute, he was blushing. Mito didn’t see what the big deal was about carrying her, it would have been worse if she had actually been dead. When he didn’t add anymore, and Mito still didn’t feel like forming any coherent sentences, silence crept in and took a backseat. As it wound on, nothing but the sound of leaves rustling to keep them company, Mito tried and failed to suppress the memories of the night. If only the mind were as fragile as magic, then it might easily stop working and the replays of everything would stop. But no, the mind was a persistent asshole who liked to cause constant suffering to the body it was trapped in. As if the body didn’t keep it alive in the first place. Tsk.

Before her mind could truly get into the darkest realizations and horrors of the night that would cause her to breakdown-now that she was calmer and no longer running on adrenaline- Hashirama fixed his eyes back on hers, face completely serious. Something within Mito curled, causing her to look away.

“We’d like to help you. If you would allow it.”

Mito contemplated that, licking her chapped lips. It wasn’t like help was coming from anywhere else at the moment and there was nothing left to lose anyway. That decided, when she meet his eyes, which were a dark brown and very very kind looking, Mito nodded.

“I’m Mito.”

(They realize very quickly after that that Mito was far too weak to walk-or stand-on her own. Which was particularly strange. Even if she had run all night, Mito shouldn’t have felt as hungry or weak as she did. But as she was, Hashirama had to carry her like before…Mito was back asleep after only a few steps.)

The second time she wakes up, the second time she remembers anyway, Mito is lying in the comfort of a bed. It takes her a moment to will her eyes open, but when she does, she is granted to the sight of a _very_ drab room. There was nothing in it except for the bed (completely white for the record), a dark brown wooden bedside table and dresser, two doors, and a window.

Mito felt a muscle twitch as she stared at the blank, wheat colored walls. It was a fact of life on Uzushiogakure that Uzumaki’s were _never _to be put in a boring room. Things tended to happen. Mito may have a tenacious hold on her self-control, something most Uzumaki’s would die for, but this room wasn’t her real one, the one left behind in Uzushio was full of a life she would never be able to return to, while this room had the potential to kill a kitten and it was where she-ultimately an Uzumaki-was.

Now that she wasn’t running and her thoughts weren’t hazed with fear, everything from the previous night came crashing into her mind. Mito bit back a scream of sorrow. It was obvious she was still alive, but for how much longer? All of her support systems were gone, she doubted she would be able to return back to the main island- and something about that jumped out at her, but slipped away just before she could catch on to it-she had no idea what group the intruders were a part of. Nor if they had kept anyone alive. Mito tried to think. Had anyone been captured or merely subdued? There must have been some survivors regardless of that. Uzushiogakure may not have been a big nation, but there were many islands, many ships, and many people.

There was still some hope. Even if it didn’t feel like it right now.

“I see you’re awake.”

It probably said a lot about her emotional state that Mito neither jumped in fright nor appeared remotely startled at the voice. She was _tired_. All she wanted was to be curled up in her father’s arms like she had as a child with a cup of steaming white tea. To hear the songs her mother would often sing throughout the day. And her brother-Mito wanted her brother to curl up beside her so she knew he was safe. But Mito didn’t know whether she would ever see her brother or little niece Kushina ever again.

A new wave of hurt hit her like a ton of bricks. Closing her eyes, Mito counted backward from ten, taking in deep, ragged breaths with each number. It did nothing to ward of the twisting-growing-mangled _hurt_ that rested within every fiber of her being, but it was enough for her to gather courage and look toward the door.

The voice belonged to an older girl with dark brown hair pulled into an intricate top-knot. The way she leaned against the door frame said she was relaxed, but her pale golden eyes glittered dangerously. _Spirit-child._

“So it appears,” answered Mito when she was sure her voice wouldn’t crack. “How long have I been asleep?”

“Around three days.” The woman gave a sharp grin. “You had quite the fever when you got here, Mito-chan. I’m not surprised you don’t remember me.”

“I’m afraid I don’t.” Mito awkwardly got one arm under herself. Shaking like a leaf, she pushed herself into a sitting position. The older girl only watched with a bored look, and Mito was glad she didn’t help. There were simply some things a person had to do themselves.

“I’m Touka, Hashirama and Tobirama’s older cousin.”

Mito didn’t remember anything after falling asleep in Hashirama’s arms, but the way Touka mentions the boys gives her enough insight to know they’ve been with her.

“Tobirama is the younger one, correct?”

Touka snorted, standing up straight, “Technically, yes. But I really do wonder sometimes.”

As if on cue, the sound of something breaking filters into the room, followed by a loud whine, “But, Tobirama-“

The door cuts off any more noise as it closes.

“I washed you down a few times when you got really bad,” Touka says, coming to stand beside the bed. “But you probably want to actually feel yourself getting clean, so come on. I’ll help you get the bath started.”

The sight Touka helps lead Mito into is one she herself is familiar with. Mostly because she’s done the same thing to her brother multiple times. The unfamiliar teenager-Tobirama if she’s to go by Touka’s description-is pinning one of Hashirama’s arms behind his back whilst sitting on him, trapping his older brother’s other hand with his foot. An animated figurine (it looks a little much like small bones) is happily patting at Hashirama’s hair with small vibrations running from its throat all the way down to its tail.

Touka clears her throat and the struggling quickly stops.

“Now boys, as much as I love you, we _do_ have a guest.”

More than one eyebrow is raised, because hadn’t Touka and her just been bantering unbecomingly? (There may have been some flirting, but Mito is positive that only occurred due to the older girl attempting to lift Mito’s spirit. Mostly.) Tobirama and Mito meet eyes, they both shrug.

“I thought you enjoyed it when we scared people off, cousin?”

Touka made as if to hit him before remembering Mito was holding onto her arm for support. She settled for harrumphing at him instead. “Only the ones who can’t handle the chaos.”

“Hmm,” is all he has time to utter before Hashirama threw him off.

Less than a second passes where Hashirama scrambles onto his feet and the animated bones pounce onto Tobirama’s chest. The older brother hastily straightens out his hair, blushing madly in embarrassment.

“Mito!” Hashirama gave her an excited grin. “I didn’t know you had woken up yet!”

Touka scoffed, “You think I came over here just to take a bath?”

“You’ve done it before,” says Tobirama whilst standing up. The animated bones (a kitten, realized Mito) sat on his shoulder.

“That was before I had the lava tiles installed!”

“Anyway,” Hashirama interrupts loudly, “Mito, you must be hungry. Would you like something to eat?”

Mito gave him a tired smile, “Yes, thank you, Hashirama.”

Halfway through the breakfast (Mito can barely hold down the toast and eggs despite being ravenous), a newspaper lands on the table next to her arm, and she realizes that no, the day does not plan to give her any breaks. As the man who had thrown the paper down moves to sit at the head of the table, the entirety of the room is covered in silent anticipation. It’s then that Mito suddenly makes the connection to who Hashirama faintly reminded her of. It does nothing to wane the uneasiness filling her only just relaxed body.

Her father had been the leader of a nation. The spokesman of the people. The Negotiator. Everybody agreed he was one of the best leaders of the time, everything he did was for the people, and his children were simply wonderful. But because of his leadership, Mito’s father had been a very busy person. There were dinner parties monthly, guest from all over the world, the trips out of the nation, threats, agreements, trading negotiations. It didn’t matter that Uzushiogakure was small, they had to do it all.

Mito remembers one dinner party very clearly from when she was ten. The event was held for several Fire Nation diplomats. Among them had been two members from the capital of Konoha. The two were obviously rivals of some sort (as seen through their repeated attempts to outdo one another in various aspects throughout the night), and Mito had thought the whole thing was rather boring. In an attempt to spice things up a bit, she may or may not have placed paprika in all the dishes while they were still in the kitchen. And despite what others may have said later, she had not known one of the two men were allergic to it.

The whole event was postponed, leaving one of the diplomats to recover and Mito very much grounded for a month.

What were the odds the same man allergic to paprika would be the father of the two boys sitting across from her?

(She noted that his jaw was as strong looking as she remembered, as was the infamous, constantly present, glare of disdain.)

Mito settled her expression into one of little emotion; her negative feelings toward the man had not lessened over time. “Butsuma.”

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the other three (_Senjus’,_ her mind whispered) shift uncomfortably in their seats.

“Uzumaki. Read.”

_As polite as ever, _but nevertheless, she slowly unfolded the paper and began to read the head story.

Not an hour later, Butsuma is gone, and Mito holds her head over the inside of a toilet, bile drippling down from her mouth. Her heart feels sick and her mind is racing. She knew she had run for a long time that night. Knew she had run from night until midday at least, probably more. But that was the thing wasn’t it? Nowhere on her journey to escape the murderers had she come across any water. No puddle, no pond, no lake.

No ocean.

Mito lived on an island nation. There were hundreds of tiny uninhabited islands around the larger ones that were close, but even still, they were not connected in anyway. That was, in fact, what made islands islands. The capital city of Uzushiogakure was on the largest island of the nation, but it was not the largest in the world, not compared to others that Kiri claimed ownership over. For the amount of time she had been running, fueled at first by her magic, she should’ve come across the ocean. Or at least noticed if she was running on top of water.

Then there was also the fact that it was impossible to arrive in Konoha in one day.

But here she was, in the house of a Senju, reading about the horrors of three months ago, while for her it had been only one night (four counting her fever days). It just wasn’t possible. Her magic was not possible of transporting her through time. And no one in living history had the power to transport another person other than themselves through time.

As she accepted the rag to wash her face of bile, Mito couldn’t think of anything else that could have done this to her. It was-it was-

The newspaper had pictures in it. Ugly black and white pictures that showed grotesque figures and burnt buildings, dry blood on the streets, a dog lying beside it’s master, barring its teeth at any who came close.

Mito had taken one look at the face of a body and had bolted for the closest restroom.

Hashirama was behind her, rubbing soothing circles on her back, speaking words in hopes of trying to calm her.

Mito feels disgusted. How dare she take comfort from strangers when she could not comfort her people. How dare she be here and not out searching for survivors. How dare she not be able to pray and mourn for her brothers and sister in all but blood for three months. How dare she be alive and magicless, when perhaps her magic could’ve saved them all. Mito feels all this, feels it rise within her just as a waterfall crashes into rock, and she wants to scream at all the Senju to get away. How dare they save her!

How dare Touka pull her hair back when she once again vomits. How dare Tobirama force her to drink fluids and eat. How dare Hashirama carry her back to the room she awoke in when she cannot force herself stand. How dare they, how dare they, how dare-

“I knew her. She was just a little girl.”

Hashirama says nothing, and Mito hates him for that to.

(She knows her brother had moved his family into Konoha a few months before, so she dares to ask Butsuma what has happened to them. His look leaves no questions.)


End file.
